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by yourmacha
Summary: 'What's been there from the start cannot be changed.' One of the greatest love stories of all time, told from the end towards another beginning...nothing is ever too late, is it? DESTIEL CasDean Angsty


21:42, November 1st

That wasn't a typical night. For one, all life appeared still. Not a single whistle of wind or the crackling, falling of branches on gravel ground could be heard but the adamant silence that is loud enough to keep old Dean Winchester awake. He thought it was all too strange - the solemnity - which has never been a part of his entire hunting life. He was fazed by the lack of noises that he'd rather have the demon climb up his sill instead, for most of the time; he'd prefer to see his nightmares unfold with open eyes than closed, as well as having the fulfillment of slaying it with his bare hands.

To be frank, whatever is bound to come, he'd love to get over it - and perhaps sleep will finally take him away.

"Dad?" Dean's eyes followed the source of the voice, and he didn't notice that his son has been there for the whole time, watching him. He had made mistakes, and they were big and destructive. However, as he gazed upon the bright young man with the most genuine heart beside him, he thought that maybe, at some point in his life, he had done something right.

"I'll leave you now to get some sleep, okay? If you need anything, just call me." He smiled and kissed the folds on his father's forehead, sighing before straightening up to leave. The door shut and the man was left alone with the moon then again; pondering, anticipating.

Within his deepest thoughts, he prayed.

 _Where are you_? Those three words echoed in his empty mind as his lids began to drop. He counted, ten seconds, and opened them only to be filled with disappointment for not finding him sitting on the foot of his bed.

It was the thousandth time he called, and the thousandth time it wasn't answered.

His lying position suffocated him, and he propped up his elbows to lift himself up from the silk mattress. He coughed, first two in a row, and many more followed. He hastily grabbed a glass of water and gulped down in desperation, savoring the smooth liquid grazing his rough, constricted throat.

Afterwards, his once idle brain forced itself to entertain the notion of death. Inwardly, he figured he'd live no more than a few weeks, even days. Oh, was he terrified?

 _No_. He replied to himself. He faced every possible evil that could've existed and there is nothing to be afraid of much longer. He had experienced the pain of dying many times, but this time, there is no Sam or anyone at that matter, to bring him back from the dead. His destined end has truly come and he has no reason to fight.

He turned to see his late wife's photograph on his nightstand, and it was taken when they were both young. A timid smile graced his lips as his fingertips ran over the wooden frame. _My Lisa, she's beautiful._ She was the only woman to learn everything about him, stayed by his side, and only left when fate claimed her. She's irreplaceable, that's no lie. Yes, He loved her. He did. _I_ _loved her because she was the keeper of all my secrets._

 _The words I couldn't say to him, I told her_.

For the longest time, he attempted to forget. He hoped that it would fade away as more years went by, and he'll grow to give Lisa what she deserves. Concealed, bottled up, locked away in the lonely darkness - he thought that was the key, but he kept coming back. His lips, his shy smile, the crinkles of his eyes and the timbre of his voice - all of it haunted him every second, and he was grateful he wore masks all the time; so even God failed to see.

The ache felt surreal he wished he touched the angel even just once; just one memory that's enough to keep his desires company and warm at night. Though for one reason or another, he knew he didn't need it since he will never be satisfied. _But God, his laugh. Deep inside, just looking at him made me want to live a minute longer._

 _It made him want to live a day longer, a year longer; to be with him, and to be just there. Do all the stupid things 'brothers' do, and even if we don't get past that line, I'm thankful to him for being one broken reason to be alive._

Well, he was worth such hero who is prepared to die for those around him all the time that he lost his will to save himself.

He didn't mean to give up, or stop hoping for the impossible to come. He thought for a moment that if he were to die there and now, it might be a sure path to get across Cas - that is, if his soul is bound to go above. _If not_... He shut his eyes closed, letting all the flashbacks embrace his existence. Like a cinematic record, he watched himself bicker with his precious little brother, Sammy, and Bobby standing by with a drink wearing a smug grin. He saw the day they took a picture with Cas in it when they barely knew him, and lastly, a close-up-like snap of Castiel's genuine happiness.

That's exactly how he wanted it, for Cas to be the last thing he remembers once everything goes white. A tad bit afraid he might forget, he traced Castiel's features within his imagination, and waited.

His consciousness threatened to slip, and for the second time he forced his eyes to blink open - he wasn't quite certain why, but he had to the moment the noises came. The breeze howled madly against the glass window while leaves withered down. Just then, while chances were very slim, a blurred figure was within sight; a being he thought he'll never get a glimpse of again.

Wild Green eyes met timid Sapphires.

There was a strong wave of familiarity; of genuine safety and peace - Dean swore he forgot the laws of breathing, and veined, aging fingers urged to reach out to the hunched figure in the infamous trench coat. He scanned every nook and curve 'til the man's soft mouth and his gaze stayed there. How can he forget such softness?

With evident hesitance, his voice shook. "You're exactly as I remember..."

The man didn't reply. Dean felt a ghost of pain realizing it may be a hallucination, perhaps his own subconscious part projecting his inner deprivation. _It can't be._ He thought, for his presence is consuming the old man. _It's really him._

"Cas."

He flinched. Dean smiled when there was finally a small hint of response, and that's when time stopped and air lost it way to them.

His heart raced and the emptiness around him was overtaken by joy. Their calm stares intensified - overwhelmed by emotions and of tears. Dean struggled to keep his composure as he searched fondly upon the stooped, seemingly tired man, and memories from the past flared in between their dreamy meeting.

 _In it were days of vigorous hunting and days that contained specks of happiness, despite the destruction that occurred to all his loved ones. Strangely, he cherished all of it._

He recalled the very moment Cas stepped in and how he plunged towards him with a knife. Until now, he'll never admit the immediate, unexplainable trust and comfort the very second he heard him speak.

Tonight was the eternity they've always longed to have. They didn't care anymore. They're too old, too exhausted, and most definitely forgotten. Castiel moved towards him and held Dean's hand tight, and while he expected Cas's hands to be cold it was the opposite that took place. It was the _warmest_ place he had ever touched.

"Dean..."

"I prayed every night...every day. Where were you?" Dean whispered. He wanted an explanation. All those times he felt no one else could save him, he knew deep inside that Cas would. He _always_ would. He counted those ignored prayers until he lost the number of times he did and it broke him how that proved that Cas couldn't be there when he needed him the most.

The angel was silent, and he frowned. He gripped Dean's hands tighter and brought it close to his chest, almost remorseful. " _I'm sorry_."

"You know you can tell me better than a single lame sorry." Cas laughed at his remark, exactly just like the old times.

"I couldn't."

"How could you not?" Dean leaned to him, and the closer he got the more spooked he was to see Cas in actual flesh in blood and hasn't aged a single year since. "I was here. I've been always here and I never stopped waiting." Dean was leaning closer to the male now.

"You don't understand." Eyes lowered in remorse; cracked pink lips turning into a slight frown. Dean watched the hunchback posture Cas possessed, as if the burdens of the entire universe weighed him down. The old man knew, without a sense of doubt, that this hero looming beside him wanted nothing but to protect everything he cared about. Following their hearts have cost their lives, their peace, and their very _sanity_. Both have sacrificed and lost parts of themselves over one another that it evolved to be how they lived, a choice in which to keep each other safe.

 _Cas had made a promise wherein it wasn't made to be broken. The angel stayed hidden to secure his human's future and infinite happiness; regardless if he were part of it, or simply watching from Heaven._

"Enlighten me, Cas. I'm ...I..." Fragmented words trailed off as Cas bore solid stares into the weakening man. _What a childish excuse_ , He thought. He had no valid explanation to reason his absence. All these years of longing are deeply rooted with fear, something Cas had always struggled to deal with. Fear for his brothers to see him differently, fear to lose them, and fear to be doing the wrong thing all along, and this time, the most persistent of all, the _fear of not capable enough to provide_ Dean a _normal life._

 _Between the pains of witnessing Dean to be perfectly fine without him and want nothing but to give him an ordinary, well-spent life...which is more excruciating?_

"I'm tired of going circles. Just... Let's drop it." Strangely, Cas lifted his weight and positioned himself in between Dean's neck and nape. He's never done such an intimate before, yet he felt the right urge to do so. If not now, when will he be able to? They're too old, fought a little too much, that they're were never to experience touching, trivial gestures. Dean's breath hitched, shaky hands wrapping around the lean torso. Castiel shut his lids closed, breathing into the scent of vanilla and sandalwood; placing a soft, feathery kiss on the wrinkled skin.

 _No one can own this moment. It's theirs, something only they can do; the emotions they stir within each other's souls are incomparable._

 _Embracing someone you've seen to be the most important thing in the world; feeling closer to them than anyone with no stars in between - it is truly the greatest haven, and they were lucky enough to feel it themselves._

Leaving Dean was a choice, but he wouldn't say it was wrong. Dean gained a family, a son - someone to continue his legacy without all the incomprehensible pain - and a third of his life resulted to be well-spent. One thing that Cas inwardly regretted, however, is letting Dean claim his heart, locking out anyone but him, until Cas returns to his arms.

Though Cas is now finally safe within the solace only Dean can offer, his whole entity flowed uncontrollably with so much love and adoration it rendered him completely speechless as he gasped for air, tears threatening to shame him.

His heart, his mind, for the first time, functioned in sync. No one tried to dominate the other, and screamed only the same words:

 _I need you._

 _I need you so much it hurts_.

"Cas? Are you alright? _"_ Slowly, peace begins to heal the chaos once clouding their minds. The wind grew calmer by every second, silence meeting old Winchester yet again. The angel not once let go, but clung tighter as the clock ticked.

A smile found its way to thick lips, while Dean proceeded to stoke Castiel's hazel locks. They were light and soft to touch as he expected clouds to be, and there was nobody to gaze at them consciously and uncomfortably if he were to do it for hours.

"Time is running out, isn't it?" With that, palms clenched Dean's shirt, shaking but firmly fisted. The man he loved was unmoved and Dean tried to make him perk up, to no avail. Hot tears wet the left side of his chest, and it appears that Cas has no plans of letting Dean see him bawl helplessly. He wouldn't, because as much as possible he had to stay strong. No matter how touch Dean seemed to be, Cas had always been the concrete support.

If Dean were to take his last breath that minute, he just won't be able to watch it, or let him see a flushed, tear-stained embodiment of sorrow on his departing. Dean wants to see a smiling, happy Cas as the last of his memory, and the crumbling man can't fail him. Not ever again.

"Look at me." Castiel wiped the tears as if it would make a difference. Composing himself, he straightened up to look at the pair of azure eyes with neutrality and straightness as to prove Dean it was momentarily but a state of internal collapse that must be erased from memory. Cas managed to drag his gaze away from Dean with fumbling fingers, meeting Dean's curiosity with nothing but silence.

"You've done enough, Cas." Dean whispers. _How can I ever thank you?_ He's corrupted himself and turned into a villainous monster in the eyes of his own kind to do justice for the Winchesters; not a single time did Cas turn his back on them, and even if he did, it was for their sake.

"We should...stop running." Cas nodded, biting his lip.

"We lost ourselves doing so. I think...I have to tell you ...what I thought I'll never get to." Cas shook his head. Aside from the fact that touching Dean was torturous enough, Cas just knew that _not this time_. Somewhere else, somewhere new, that's when they should. Dean can't say it _now_.

"I Lo- "

" _Shh_. Dean, not now." Cas silenced him, but didn't hesitate to let go of the man's trembling hands. Oh, the look of confusion and desperation within the blue orbs sent Castiel falling again. However, even if chance itself laid naked in front of them, the loyal angel wouldn't break what has been already written.

 _You won't understand, Dean._

"...why not?"

"It's not meant to be for us this lifetime." His tone was short of a whisper, low, and apologetic. Dean planned to argue with how his lips parted with protest, but strangely, he seemed to listen and sit back. Cas didn't know the reason why he would let it go so easily, but nevertheless he oddly appeared to understand.

"Will there be...another lifetime?" It was definitely an unexpected inquiry, but quite logical. What are you thinking? Cas pondered. Though, indeed, there were thousand of lifetimes that have existed and a thousand more in this universe are to come.

"Yes." Dean gripped tighter. The trench coat - clad male listened to the slowing breathing and pacing heart, keeping their distance close. His breath caught up in his throat as his vision blurred; and as much as possible he left it unnoticed.

"...then, promise me." Cas blinked and the second Dean heard the dripping sounds of water fall on the smooth pillowcase, his tears followed soon after, dry lips now drenched with salty water. " This lifetime around, it's going to be you."

The words hit Cas like a hundred ton of angel blades, pinning him on the ground with nothing left but the will to cry.

"There'll be an us." Dean startled a laugh while Cas could barely speak. The angel didn't know where the limits of crying too much marked its line but surely, there's no stopping; the tears continuously fell effortlessly.

 _Were they sad? Not quite. Happy, you could say. At the same time, they were moved since they felt loved and in love._

"...and then, we're going to be happy. We're...going to hold hands, go on cheesy dates, and buy each other valentine's gifts. Sounds... Like a dream, right?"

"Sounds Ridiculous."

"You love it." _Oh he did_.

Dean shakily reached for the other's face in ought to reduce the wetness there, but instead more of them made its way down to Castiel's chin. He savored the ecstatic notion of being unbreakable - being strong by just a simple contact with the old hero on this very bed - and if only he had gone down sooner, he would stay longer.

"Promise me that you're going to go find me and make me yours." Castiel, despite his melancholy, cracked a smile. No matter how long it will take, or how many worlds he has to encounter before seeing him again, it won't hinder him from finding his other half.

"I promise." He traced skin with countless words of admiration, holding Dean still as his breathing decelerated gradually and painless. Castiel made sure that with each millisecond, Dean is smiling. He had no clue when his heart will abruptly stop beating, and so he decided to keep him smiling until the last sign of life fades.

 _Father, if you would only lend me your ears for a short prayer..._

"Do it fast. I'm...tired... of waiting." His chest heaved heavily as he struggled to keep the air circulating; lips opening then closing as if he wanted to say more. Castiel placed both hands beside the temples of his face, staring into him deeply as to share his deepest secrets.

With that, Castiel mustered a smile, one that he only showed in front of Dean, and it was a live miracle itself.

 _I love you_.

 _The next time I see you I'm all yours and you're all mine. We will become what we should've been, and even if the heavens above come crashing down on us for doing what felt right, I'll protect you. Over and over again, no matter how many lives or worlds, I will come looking for you; make you fall in love with me again, make you remember._

Bright Aqua eyes dulled until gray stared lifelessly at darkened, jade ones. Castiel dropped the smile and kissed chilled lips, and no - he were not too late, because from then on there'll be nothing but a beginning so sweet.

 _There's only one thing I'll ever beg of you._

 _Please, take everything from me_

 _Just give this beautiful person to me..._

"I'll see you soon, my love."

* * *

4:36, November 3rd

On his father's funeral, he didn't expect see a town.

He's been told that he was such you would hate, but the weeping people surrounding his father's grave said the opposite. They mentioned they were saved by him, exactly how his Uncle Sam did too. Heavy-hearted but laughing, they shared narratives of various cases - all of them in which are supernatural.

He knew the stories, each one of them, as if it were a childhood fairy tale. Little did he know the amount of truth they actually contain?

They left one by one, saying their condolences, leaving with their sons, daughters and grandchildren but as they walked away, the bewitching tales continued.

One of them even said that it was not just Uncle Sam and his father, but a charming angel too had been part of the team.

He would've chuckled and brushed it off, but often did he see his father pray. Pray as if he were asking whatever the holy creature is to come down, and most of the time he'd cry himself to sleep. Sometimes, his father will tell him random things about Angels, how they don't have hearts and act like mechanical robots - except for one, he had said, whose problem was having too much heart.

Earth seemed to mourn his father's death as well as rained poured down on muddy grass. He was all alone now, but neither the isolation nor the cold rain bothered him.

Through the stories, he also figured that right now, his father is in a good place.

 _Somewhere he always belonged to._

Stories never truly end. A book closes, and it is continued in another dimension. People even choose to write about it; change the ending or write another book about it.

Things only end when you believe it will.

 _"You know what, Sammy? There was once this angel with charcoal wings..."_

 _"Black wings_?"

He was eager to know more about his father's past, but he'd leave it at that. From fragmented hints and memoirs, he was sure of one thing:

What's been there from the start cannot be changed.

The Winchester boy smiled, running his hands on auburn hair as he straightened the blue tie around his neck. He wouldn't be there for awhile, since he had to leave for college soon. He'll miss the place, of course. Still, he had to move on and staying there will keep him dwelling in the past. His dad - he was a truly remarkable man. He could give more than he ever took and he was the same way to his wife and kids. His half-brother have left a long time ago, and his mother passed away a year after. He never heard anything from him after that, but perhaps they have to talk eventually.

His eyes were too swollen to produce any more tears, and so all he could do now is relive some good memories and find peace in them. He never stopped wondering just who the angel was. Was he human? A metaphor?

What he knew for sure is that this angel is what's been there from the very start...

And that comforted him.

"A hunter finally on his way home."

* * *

 **A/n so how was it? HAHHAHA. To whoever took their time reading this thanks you so much and I'll appreciate it if you vote or leave a comment! :)**


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